


Holding Out For An Iero

by synonomy



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Tattoos, Teasing, Touring, Withholding Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synonomy/pseuds/synonomy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Frank gets his chestpiece, he doesn't have sex for a week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Out For An Iero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FrankIero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankIero/gifts).



When Frank gets his chestpiece, he doesn't have sex for a week.

Which, okay, it's not like it's longest he's ever gone without sex. Not by a _very_ long shot, but this time, he doesn't even have a good excuse. He's not an awkward fumbling teenager anymore; he's in fucking _My Chemical Romance_ , and his band is _awesome_. They've won, like, awards and shit. Not that that really matters, of course, but it's the principle, or whatever. And even if it did matter, it's not like he has to (or wants to, fuck, he's spent more than enough time around Gerard to know why that shit's not okay) call upon his status to get himself laid.

Because he's got Gerard. And Gerard, being in Frank's band himself, couldn't care less about Frank's stardom.

One thing he does care about, though, is Frank. And while, in theory, this would seem like a pretty awesome thing (and it _is_ , seriously, even after their-- is it six months now? _Six months!_ \--officially together Frank still can't quite get his head around it) it also has its problems. Mainly, they stem from the fact that Gerard, awesome as he is, is also a total _freak_ when it comes to caring. Gerard caring means Gerard _worrying_. Which is, yeah - nice, sometimes, at the right moments - in hospital waiting rooms after Frank gets a little _too_ enthusiastic on stage, or when he's curled up in his bunk feeling lousy and homesick and generally fucking miserable, but other times? Not so much.

It's definitely not the side of Gerard he wants when his cock is in Gerard's mouth, put it that way. Especially since he hadn't even _done_ anything to warrant it. Like, of course he's going to wince, just a _little_ , when he moves and the freshly inked skin shifts and pulls, because it's sore and tender the first few days and - as Frank had quickly learnt - completely impossible to stay still and immobile while Gerard is sucking you off, okay.

And fuck, surely that in itself should have been a satisfactory enough excuse for Gerard, because Frank defies anyone in their right mind to turn down a blowjob from Gerard Way, even if they're bleeding out of their fucking _ears_ \- but, unfortunately, Gerard didn't seem to think it was.

"Look, stop being a horny idiot and just wait, okay? I mean, you've only just started on the cream, at least let the first layer of new skin heal over first."

"Ge _rard_ ," Frank moans from where he's laying shirtless on his back on the bus couch because a) his shirt is irritating and b) he knows it will help his case. Or at least, it usually would, but for some weird reason that can only have been reached by Gerard's special brand of logic, Gerard seems unusually determined to maintain his resolve. Even when Frank stands up and thrusts his bare hips under Gerard's nose, he doesn't look up from where he's hunched over the tiny kitchenette table.

"Look!" Frank demands, jabbing his finger almost violently towards his chest, where the cream is clearly starting to do its work, the skin already peeling nicely. "It _has_ healed over. Like, yeah, I could maybe understand the first time," (though, for the record, that was totally Gerard's fault - fucking jumping him like half an hour after the wrap came off, what did he expect?) "but you haven't touched me for _three days_ , Gerard. I thought we were supposed to be in a committed, loving relationship now or something?"

"We are," Gerard says, his pencil skritch-skritching over his sketchpad. He looks up for a second and Frank shimmies hopefully, but Gerard's eyes stay firmly on his own hands as they calmly retrieve his coffee from where Frank moved it across the table when he wasn't looking.

"Pfft," Frank huffs and falls back on his heels, grumpily folding his arms-- over his stomach, after a suppressed flinch when he accidentally touches his chest that he really hopes Gerard didn't see. "I don't know whose loving you're committed to but it's certainly not mine. What happened to "for better for worse", motherfucker? You can't just abandon me at the first sign of peeling skin, what sort of wife are you?"

"We're not married, Frankie," Gerard mutters, slouching down on his arm until his fucking pointy nose is almost touching the paper, fist working rapidly. "And I'm not abandoning you, I'm being _considerate_. Putting your health above my own desires. Being respectful, y'know? That tends to be part of the whole loving relationship thing."

Frank bites back the _Well damn, maybe we should've stuck to backstage handjobs_ because he really doesn't mean it and it will totally sound like he doesn't, too. He tries a different tack, "Okay, sure, but why can't we just be careful? It's not like either of us have a fetish for jizzing in open wounds or anything, unless there's something you're not telling me."

"You are seriously so fucking gross sometimes," Gerard says mildly, which is, like, so many kinds of ironic Frank can't even _do_ anything but throw up his hands and make incredulous, offended noises until Gerard gets up and takes his coffee and sketchpad off into his bunk, ignoring Frank's whining yell of, "But baby, I have _neeeeeds_!"

Gerard doesn't let up the next day either. Or the next. Or the next, and suddenly the weekend's rolling around and Frank's almost resigned himself to the fact his balls are going to slowly and painfully turn some deeply unattractive shade of blue Gerard would probably know the name of. For a while he'd vaguely entertained the idea that Gerard was doing it on purpose, just to torture him-- hell, maybe this is his way of getting his own back on Frank for accidentally smearing come all over his favorite issue of Doom Patrol that time-- but then the past few days he's started to catch Gerard _staring_ at him with rapidly increasing frequency and. No, okay, it's just Gerard ( _fucking Gerard_ ) - the only guy in the world who gives up sex for a week out of irrational concern for a goddamn tattoo.

And really, there's only so much Frank can take. Seven long, painful days of celibacy when _Gerard is right there_ is already pushing it, but the staring? That, _that_ is where Frank draws the line. He can't hold out when Gerard looks at him like that, no fucking way.

He goes to find Brian. By the end of the day, it's arranged that he and Gerard are rooming together next hotel night. Which, by the way, isn't for another _three whole days_ , and by the time it's finally arrived and Frank's taken an actual shower with actual hot water and actual soap, he's very nearly at the point of just saying _fuck it_ to the plan he has, tackling Gerard to the floor butt-naked and humping the shit out of him, instead.

But, no. If Gerard can subject him to days and days of maddening sexual frustration, the least Frank can do is tease him a little. Really, it's the least the prissy asshole deserves.

Speaking of which, it sounds like said asshole just got back from Ray and Mikey's room. Frank can hear him; shuffling about on the other side of the bathroom door, the creak of bed springs followed by two heavy thumps Frank would recognize anywhere as Gerard's stupid boots hitting the floor. The TV starts up a few seconds later, low and rumbling.

Frank towels his hair briefly, just enough so he's not dripping everywhere, and then carefully pats his chest dry. He's onto the regular lotion now; the last of the flaking skin finally starting to wash away, revealing fresh, slightly tender skin and the bold, gradually darkening lines of his ink. Frank grins at himself in the mirror as he rubs the lotion in slowly, before rinsing his hands and turning his attention to the towel rail, selecting the smallest, most inappropriate one there to wrap around his hips. The two ends don't even overlap, it's so tiny; when Frank gets the top two corners clutched precariously in his hand there's a good inch of gap - revealing damp, bare skin from his hip all the way down his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.

Perfect.

When he exits the bathroom, Gerard's sat cross-legged on his bed, bent over his sketchpad with the TV turned down low. He doesn't look up as Frank passes, only offers a distracted, "Hey," from under the curtain of messy, slightly greasy black hair.

"Hey," Frank returns mildly. He stops by his suitcase, open atop the dresser next to his own bed, watching the screen idly. "What're you watching?"

"...Hm? Oh, I'm not, really. Just those weird hotel commercials, y'know? You can change it if you want, but there's a documentary on later--" He looks up, and his words trail off. His eyes widen almost comically as he takes Frank in - gaze raking over his bare body, lingering on the place where the towel splits. His mouth is still open.

Frank pretends not to notice. "Yeah? That's cool. Shower's free, by the way." He turns to his suitcase, his back to Gerard, and drops the towel, letting it puddle around his feet.

Gerard makes a noise like he tried to inhale and swallow at the same time. Frank sniggers at his clean clothes, pretending to be looking for something, casually holding up items for inspection. He can practically _feel_ Gerard's eyes on his ass as he sways a little, cocking his weight into one hip, then the other, playing at being obliviously engrossed in what he's doing. He takes his time pulling on a pair of boxers, bending over ever-so-slowly and fingering the waistband when he straightens up, arranging them low on his hips.

When he finally turns around, Gerard's still in the same position - lips parted, face flushed, hand immobile against the paper. He seems to realize what he's doing, though, and snaps his eyes back down, cheeks coloring further.

Frank doesn't smirk like a smug motherfucker, but it's a close thing. He gives it a moment, waits for Gerard to remember he's, you know, actually supposed to be absorbed in his drawing - hand tentatively (and rather unconvincingly, Frank thinks gleefully) starting to move again - before sinking down onto the bed and pressing up against Gerard's side, careful to keep his chest clear of pressure. The last thing he wants is to draw Gerard's attention to it now.

Gerard jumps, face jerking to the side to stare at Frank with surprised, apprehensive eyes, but Frank remains innocent - rests his chin on Gerard's shoulder, nodding towards the sketchbook. "What're you drawing?" It looks like some sort of mutated zombie feasting on the brains of a decapitated head. It's pretty gruesome, even by Gerard's standards. Frank whistles appreciatively. His fingers creep up the back of Gerard's neck as he pretends to study it, playing at casual, thumb brushing idly against stray strands of hair.

Gerard's breath hitches. "Um. It's." He coughs, turning back to the paper. "Well, it was meant to be, like, a guy. But the head came out wrong, so I just, um. Left it as a head. And that didn't really make sense on its own, so I figured, yeah, zombie." He laughs nervously, "Can't go wrong with zombies."

Frank hums lowly, turning his face into Gerard's neck and breathing out slow and hot through his mouth. "Frank," Gerard says, tone edging on warning, and Frank _has_ to give in to the smirk, then - especially since he can feel the tension in Gerard's body, his spine held rigid and arm stiff where Frank's pressed up against it. Frank wonders how painful the boner he's desperately trying (and failing) to hide under that sketchpad is, trapped inside still show-damp jeans.

He hopes it's a lot, the fucker.

Frank pulls away and Gerard lets out a slow, relieved breath, but Frank is far from done. In one quick, fluid move he flops onto his back, draping his legs over the side of the bed to rest his feet on the floor. The fact he actually is pretty exhausted helps with the big show he makes of yawning, stretching his arms up and arching against the mattress, groaning deliberately low and throaty. Gerard bites his lip at that; Frank can see him fighting to keep his focus on the paper, except he can't seem to stop his eyes from darting to the side, at Frank's body where it's stretched out next to him.

When Frank reaches down to _adjust_ himself, hips pushing up off the bed, Gerard finally breaks with a whining sigh. "Frank, come on."

"What?" Frank asks innocently, rolling onto his stomach and propping his head in his hands, hair sticking to his neck and shoulders as he looks up at Gerard from under his raised eyebrows.

Gerard looks back down at him stonily, eyes dark. "You know what."

Frank bites back his grin. "No? Can't say I do, Geezy." He yawns again, arms sliding forward and forehead dropping to the bed, arching his back slow and sharp, "Maaaan, I am wiped _out_."

"Oh, fuck off," Gerard says sharply, voice tight, laced with frustration. He throws his sketchpad onto the floor and stands up, making for the bathroom. "M'gonna shower."

Frank's up and off the bed in a second, grabbing Gerard's arm before he can reach the door and shoving him up against the wall. "Fuck, no, this ends now, d'you hear me?" He gets in Gerard's face, spits out words in a desperate rush, "I've had enough of your fussy mothering _bullshit_ , Gerard. My chest is _fine_ , okay - I want your dick in my ass and I want it _now_."

To his credit, Gerard doesn't try to protest. Hell, it doesn't look like he's even breathing, staring at Frank with his mouth hanging open. If Frank couldn't feel his cock hard against his thigh he might be tempted to check he hadn't spontaneously _died_ , or something. Instead he goes for Gerard's neck, closing his mouth around pale flesh and sucking hard.

That seems to snap him back to reality; Gerard exhales harshly, head tipping back against the wall, "Ah - okay!" his hands darting up to clutch at Frank's hips. " _Okay_ , Frank, shit."

"Yeah," Frank breathes, satisfied and excited and really fucking turned on, before kissing Gerard rough and sloppy. Frank's already hard against Gerard's hip, from little more than just being this close to him again, from having Gerard's mouth against his. Fuck, six months later and Frank still can't get enough. He can't stop himself from grinding against him, pressing his thigh up against Gerard's crotch and groaning under his breath at the feel of him hot and hard and straining in his jeans.

"Fuck, Frankie," Gerard pants, and yeah, Frank's really fucking missed this - the urgency of stripping down, the frenzied heat of skin-on-skin, the frantic search for supplies - and then the sharp, sweet burn of Gerard's fingers opening him up, getting him ready, so he can take Gerard's cock.

It's enough to make him keen, high and thin, clenching around the fingers in his ass and hearing Gerard's breath catch. He's got Frank flat on his back on Gerard's bed, legs splayed wide and pushed back, knees bent almost to his fucking _ears_. Frank loves it like this more than any other way - folded up and held down, completely open for Gerard's hungry eyes.

The fingers twist, bump against his prostate and Frank's cursing to the ceiling, biting hard into the inside of his cheek. Fuck, he's right on the edge already, cock leaking against his stomach. He can barely even look at Gerard's stupid face - can't watch him bite his lip with those tiny fucking teeth, or stare into his eyes, dilated almost black with how turned on he is. Frank will lose it if he does, he knows he will.

"Shit," Frank swears, pulling at Gerard's hair where he's twisted his fingers, "Gee, baby, _now_ , okay? I can't, you have to -"

"Yeah, 'kay, fuck," Gerard answers breathlessly, fingers sliding out and Frank's _empty_ , so empty, breathing hard as he watches Gerard fumble with the condom, roll it down over himself.

And then Gerard just - _stops_. His eyes are on Frank's chest, corner of his mouth twitching with the beginnings of a frown, and-- no. Frank cannot go through this again.

"Don't you fucking dare," Frank breathes dangerously, fisting a handful of Gerard's hair when he opens his mouth, yanking his face close. "No, seriously. If you stop _now_ , I'm gonna shave your head in your sleep. Shave it, paint it green, take pictures and put them on the internet. And _then_ I'm gonna kill you."

Gerard actually _pouts_. "I'm just worried, okay? It may have stopped peeling but it's still _sore_ , and this position isn't-- I mean." He cuts himself off suddenly, cheeks flushing a little, and oh, wow, suddenly something clicks in Frank's brain.

Frank blinks. "Is that-- wait, that's all? I could have just." Frank stares at Gerard incredulously as the realization sinks in. "Are you telling me, all of this time, I could have just got you to do me from behind?"

Gerard does the frowny-face, the one that means the Caring Freakazoid is coming out to play. "No, but you don't. You don't like it, though! You know, having your, um. Back to me. I didn't want to make you feel degraded, or like I don't respect you or something--"

"Gerard." There's a lot of things Frank could say right now. Like how it's not that he finds it degrading, he just loves watching Gerard's face while he's fucking him (and trust Gerard to draw that conclusion from Frank saying he prefers it on his back - fucking hell, that conversation was about - well, six months ago, Frank's surprised Gerard even remembers) or that, putting aside the fact Frank thought Gerard was saying _no, period_ , he'd never kick Gerard out of bed for _asking_ , what the fuck. But even the urge to call Gerard an idiot and smack him upside the head is being drowned out by the lovey-dovey, totally sappy fluttery feeling in his chest, so in the end all Frank says is, "Do you wanna fuck me, or not?"

For a moment Gerard looks confused, like he's trying to figure out if it's a trick question. Then it clears, morphing into a small, lopsided, disgustingly hopeful smile that only serves to accentuate the sappy feeling. "So... it's okay? You're--"

"Perfectly down with doggie-style, yes, Gerard." Frank can't help how wide he grins back. "Now move your dumb ass."

"Asshole," Gerard says, still smiling, backing off and letting Frank untangle his legs from around his waist. Frank's chest does twinge a little when he twists himself over onto his hands and knees, skin pulling taut, but that's probably just because of the sweat that's broken out over his body, over-sensitizing him to the cool air. It quickly evaporates from his mind as Gerard instantly moves up behind him to cover his back, giving way to the arousal that floods back as he peppers kisses over Frank's shoulders and the nape of his neck. It's amazing how Gerard can just _do_ that - get Frank from zero to boiling point in no time at all.

"Yeah?" Gerard murmurs behind Frank's ear - and amongst the seduction there's a genuine question, like he has to make absolutely sure - hands sliding down Frank's sides and over his ass.

"Fuck yeah," Frank manages, throat suddenly dry. He pushes back into Gerard's touch and apparently that's assurance enough because Frank hears the click of the lube; Gerard's quiet, impatient swearing as he hastily slicks himself up. This is the bit Frank both hates and simultaneously loves: the _waiting_ , his heart pounding hard in his ears and his breath coming loud in anticipation, time dragging on for what seems like forever--

\--Before Gerard's wide, strong palms are engulfing Frank's hips and he's pushing in, pulling Frank back into it, slowly spreading him open. Frank exhales shakily, willing himself to relax because christ, Gerard feels fucking _huge_ , which is ridiculous because as long and torturous as the week has felt, it has still only been _a week_ and yet Frank feels stretched to the absolute limit, so fucking _full_ and so fucking good it borders on painful. He's panting towards the bed, hair hanging in and sticking to his face as he pushes back by instinct, taking Gerard to the hilt and hearing that familiar hitch of breath in response, the fingers around his hips tightening and digging in just the way Frank likes.

"Oh god," Frank groans, his own hands fisting tight in the sheets; Jesus, he's missed this. "Don't you dare hold out on me _ever_ again, _fuck_."

"Yeah, no," Gerard says, voice breaking on a choked moan when Frank clenches down hard around him-- just to _feel_ it, feel what he's been missing. " _Fuck_ , babe, not gonna last--"

"S'okay," Frank says, because yeah, he gets that. "S'okay, just. _Fuck me_ , Gee, come on." He can't even wince at how desperate he sounds, too fucking _gone_ to give a damn.

"Yeah, yeah." Gerard pulls back - slowly, slow enough for Frank to feel every inch of the drag inside him, intense and overwhelming and _incredible_ and Frank's already shaking with it, arms threatening to give out. "God, Frankie, you're so fucking _tight_ , I can't--"

"Your fault," Frank grits out, but he's not laughing - and as Gerard presses back in just as slowly, using his hands to dimple Frank's hips into that sharp, sweet angle that gets him inside just right (the one Gerard quickly learnt how to hit every time, whatever position they're in) Frank finally loses the battle to support himself and drops down onto forearms, his chest brushing against the sheets.

It doesn't hurt, not really, but Frank hisses anyway, tense and oversensitive, and Gerard fucking stops _again_ , pauses with his hips flush against Frank's ass.

Frank hastily shakes his head, "No, no, s'fine, don't _stop_ , fuck."

"Frank," Gerard says, and he's breathing hard but Frank still _hears it_.

"No, fuck you, _no_ ," Frank gasps, but Gerard's pulling back, pulling _out_ , and there aren't any words to describe what Frank feels then. But Gerard doesn't go far; the next thing Frank knows he's being hauled upright onto his knees and his head is being pulled back for a fiery kiss. And Frank's so fucking frantic, so wrung-out and helplessly turned on he throws himself into it without question, throwing an arm back behind himself to clutch at Gerard's shoulders, making desperate noises into his mouth - half-formed pleads for him to do something, _anything_.

"Shhh, hang on, s'alright." Gerard's voice is completely wrecked, thick with arousal. He's got one steadying arm tight around Frank's stomach, carefully clear of his chest, the other cupping Frank's throat gently, stroking over his jaw. "You're gonna stay up on your knees, okay, baby? Give your chest room to breathe. Lean against the wall for me."

Frank nods mindlessly, letting Gerard shuffle them forwards until he can brace his forearms against the wall - and Gerard doesn't make him wait, just palms Frank's ass, spreads him open and pushes back in with one hard, deep thrust.

Frank inhales fast and thick, exhales slow and shaky as Gerard starts to (finally) fuck him, steady in-out strokes with his mouth pressed open and wet against the back of Frank's exposed neck, breath hard and choppy under Frank's ear. His hands slide over Frank's hips and up his sides - fingertips touching lightly, barely at Frank's nipples and Frank swears, wishing they didn't have to be careful, wishing Gerard could clamp down and twist, scrape his bitten-down nails over Frank's ribs. Frank fucking loves his ink - getting inked, wearing his ink, but right now he's really not loving the practicality of it, wishes he could go from the chair straight to smooth, perfect color with no annoying bits in between.

"More," Frank says hoarsely, arching his hips back onto Gerard's cock; satisfying stretch in his arms and shoulders, body pulled taut and dick straining up against his belly. "More, fuck. Harder."

"God, you," Gerard moans, and yeah, fuck - Frank wants to see Gerard's face right now, but he can't pretend this isn't doing it for him; his stomach swoops when Gerard's hips kick up the pace, slamming into him harder, faster, their thighs and hips sliding so slick and slippery, so hot where they're pressed together. They haven't done it like this since the first few fumbling times, since before that conversation - the one that Frank can't even _remember_ most of but Gerard apparently can, because he's also apparently been labouring under that extremely severe misapprehension all this time and _fuck_ , suddenly a lot of things make sense now.

Frank doesn't even have _words_ for how Gerard makes him feel, sometimes. He hangs his head between his biceps and breathes through it, squeezing his eyes shut against the overwhelming flood of heat rising up through his belly and chest. When the edge finally backs off a little Frank realizes Gerard's talking, rambling low and overwrought between pants, "Frankie, _Frank_ , oh god, so good, you look _so good_ all spread out like this, so desperate, fucking - so hot bent over for me, just _taking_ it, wanting-- fuck, just _wanting_ it so much."

"Fuck," Frank gasps, shoving himself back almost violently so Gerard's hips smack hard against his ass. "Yeah, want it, Gee, want it so fucking _much_ , god, _please_ , I -"

His words choke off when Gerard swears and yanks his head back. His fingers are tight in Frank's hair and his teeth are sharp against the side of Frank's pulled-tight throat; voice a low, breathless drawl in his ear, "Yeah, beg me, come on, Frankie, _beg me for it_ ," and Frank's wheezing his _please, please_ at the ceiling, clenching his knuckles against the plaster to distract from the involuntary clenching of his body as the edge suddenly looms right back twice as intense. God, Gerard never. He's not _gentle_ , he's the opposite of gentle and all its synonyms in relation to sex, but he's never. He doesn't do _this_. His filthy mouth has only ever extended as far as narration and endearments, never--

"I want, god, wanna see you all tied up, wanna -" Frank moans and drops his head back down as Gerard grabs his hips, fingers digging deep and painful into the bones, yanking Frank back against his cock until the sound of their skin slapping together jars out loud and rhythmic and pornographic in the room, "Wanna handcuff you to the bed and fuck you until you can't - _ah_ , can't even stand it, 'til you fucking come all over yourself, wouldn't even--" Gerard chokes out a groan that matches Frank's, hips stuttering against Frank's ass, "wouldn't even have to touch you, just get you off on my cock 'cause - oh god, _Frankie_."

"What, _please_ , what," Frank pants desperately, because he has to _know_ , he needs to hear Gerard say it -

"'Cause you're," Gerard's breath is hitching on every thrust, rhythm faltering, sweaty forehead sliding slickly against Frank's shoulder, "'cause you're fucking _mine_ , and you don't - I can't--" He's sliding a hand down to close around Frank's cock before Frank can even process his words; it's too much at once, too much sensation, too much of everything, and Frank comes with a noise like it's been ripped out of him, barely a second after Gerard touched him, all over Gerard's fingers and the hotel headboard. Through the white noise in his ears and brain he registers Gerard rutting up against him - his voice a low, gorgeous constant in Frank's ear as he comes, pulsing inside and making Frank whine, thighs shaking and forearms slipping on the wall. _Fucking hell._

He's shaky and wrung-out after, like he only ever is when it was _really_ good. Frank's head is spinning as they slouch against the wall, breathing hard and not speaking; when Gerard finally makes a mumbly noise and goes to pull back it feels like he's pulling Frank apart with him as he goes, drawing all the marrow from his bones until he's just a pile of nerve endings and limp muscle and thudding heart. Frank crumbles into the mattress as soon as Gerard moves away, sprawling out on his side and burying his face in Gerard's pillow. Jesus _fuck_ , he feels good. He can barely feel his _toes_.

He feels Gerard get up, hears the soft drop of the condom in the garbage can, and when the mattress dips it again it does so tentatively, maybe because it's a single bed or maybe for some other, stupid Gerard reason.

"Stop flirting and fucking get in here," Frank mumbles contentedly.

There's a pause, and then, "Your fucking come's all over the headboard," but Gerard gets his other knee up on the bed, sliding next to Frank until Frank can feel the heat of his leg all the way down his back. Frank grins to himself - because fuck yeah, it is - and turns to look over his shoulder. Gerard's leaning carefully forwards, slouched in that god-awful posture of his, skin flushed and hair stuck up everywhere, staring blank-eyed somewhere between the floor and Frank's ass.

 _'Cause you're fucking mine_ , he'd said. Frank's chest does the sappy fluttery-thing again, and he stutters through a snigger, turning back into his pillow. He enjoys the silence while he can, starting to wind down slowly, waiting for Gerard to speak.

"So," Gerard eventually says, far too casually, and Frank suddenly feels so completely ridiculous he can't help but snort out laughing, loose-limbed and lolling on his back on the bed as he gasps at the ceiling.

"What!" Gerard sounds mostly amused, but the hint of plaintiveness doesn't escape Frank either, and he immediately rolls over to press against Gerard's side, careful to give his chest a little space to air out. "Fuck," Gerard huffs a breath. "Do you want a smoke?"

"No. Well, yes, but come on," Frank says, still sniggering a little into the soft muscle of Gerard's bicep, but he strokes a hand reassuringly over Gerard's collarbone anyway. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Gerard says, and then flails when Frank pinches his nipple, laugh-squawking and slapping Frank's hand away. "Fuck, okay! I just." He hesitates, but it's an _I'm-thinking-of-how-to-phrase-this hesitance_ , not an _I'm-uncomfortable-and-really-don't-want-to-say-this_ hesitance, Frank can tell by the dense, steadily evening out _thum-thum-thums_ of Gerard's heartbeat under his cheek. "I don't know, was that o--"

"Yes," Frank says immediately. And then, "Shut up," blowing a raspberry against Gerard's neck. "I already said it's all good. Fuck, more than good, did I look like I was complaining? You're just worried because you liked making me beg a little _too_ much, and that fucks with your whole mantra of-- what was it? _Considerate_ and _respectful_." He fingerquotes them half-heartedly before poking Gerard playfully in the ribs, digging in where he knows Gerard's ticklish, but Gerard just grabs Frank's hand and holds it.

Frank falls still, breathing out slowly, but when Gerard doesn't say anything he rolls his eyes, pulling back so he can look at him. "Gee."

Gerard looks back at him-- not quite guiltily, not anything Frank could smack him for, but apprehensively, mouth dimpling a little at the corner. Frank sighs, rolling his eyes again. "Look, you're thinking too hard about it. It doesn't have to mean anything about you, you know? You're you. You could do anything to me and I wouldn't find it degrading, because it couldn't be, with you. Okay?"

Gerard keeps looking at him for a long moment. Frank doesn't even try to resist the urge to fistpump when finally, _finally_ the tension ebbs away and Gerard sighs, smiling slowly. "Okay."

"Excellent," Frank says cheerfully. He squeezes Gerard's hand once before scrambling up onto his knees, obnoxiously arching his back as he stretches over Gerard's lap to grope around for Gerard's jeans to retrieve his cigarettes.

Gerard slaps him on the ass and then lets his hand linger, fingertips stroking lightly over the damp skin, dipping just barely into the cleft. Frank immediately stills, a shiver working its way through his body. He can practically hear Gerard's smirk when he says, "So. Anything, huh?"

Frank grins through the thick breath he lets out. "As long as you promise never to not fuck me for a week when I get an inconveniently located tattoo because you're worried about my delicate virtue ever again."

"Fuck. Do I have to repeat that? A bit much when I'm both post-coital and pre-cigarette," Gerard says, hand stroking up Frank's spine until he's pulling Frank's face towards him, teeth bared and eyes bright. Frank considers it briefly, but then Gerard tugs him forwards for a kiss and--

"Nah," Frank murmurs against Gerard's mouth, shifting until he can roll under the covers and pull Gerard in with him. "This'll do."


End file.
